Birthdays
by SwordStitcher
Summary: Sometimes, a lackey's got to take initiative and sometimes an employer can be surprised. Edward forgot Clarice's birthday, Dead Switch didn't.


Arkham was a depressing hellhole, a diseased little island that became the private vacation home of every super-villain in sight of Gotham with less than questionable sanity.

Insanity spread like the plague in that place. The staff weren't immune either and several had experienced mental breakdowns as a result of working there.

It was, arguably, one of the worst places one could be sent after committing a crime.

The Riddler was undoubtedly housed within it's walls every damn time he was caught. He was a regular, being dragged back –bleeding usually- by Batman. This stint was no different to the last dozen incarcerations.

It was made him just a little more miserable to know that Jon wasn't in here either, he was going to have no decent conversation.

Edward had really only broken out _because_ Jon wasn't there. That and Joker _was_. It was either break out or lose what little he had left of his sanity and he'd opted for the former. But now he was back in and Jon still hadn't been caught. Honestly, how did such an attention hog like him stay out of trouble for so long?

They'd repainted his cell again. After all the trouble he went to make himself feel at home and daub a few green question marks everywhere. Oh well, he'd get around to doing it again sooner or later.

He'd just settled in his bunk and was looking forward to a good nap when the sounds of an explosion ripped through the facility. Not long after the booming sounds of high explosives faded away, the cacophony of klaxons started up in it's place.

_Someone's attempting escape. Good luck to them._ Edward sneered. He was just about to close his eyes when he noticed the shadows around his door.

The door opened out effortlessly to the waiting trio. The shortest held a suit bag over her shoulder. 'Sir, it's time to leave.'

'When the hell are you doing here?' He raged.

'Breaking you out.' She replied like it was the most obvious statement she'd ever made.

'I didn't ask you to!'

She sighed and looked genuinely frustrated by events. 'You've forgotten what day tomorrow is?'

'It's the 13th of March.'

'It's Reaper's birthday.' She deadpanned. 'I knew you'd forget, you always forget!'

'I didn't forget!' He absolutely had. Birthdays and special dates was a bit of a lax gap in his memory for two reasons: The first was that back before he became a super-villain, he never had friends to speak of and therefore never needed to remember specific dates as important and secondly Edward Nigma was a selfish man to the bone and generally didn't take a lot of interest in people around him besides the obvious indicators. _Are they likely to murder me? Are they worthy of my intellect? Can I piss them off to the point of suicide?_

The suit was held out for his appraisal and he took it somewhat disgruntled. 'Is this your plan?'

'Yes, sir.'

'She doesn't know I'm in Arkham?' He found the fact she didn't highly unlikely.

'Not for the moment. She assumes you're making arrangements for her birthday. I didn't refute it.'

Edward winced as he struggled in the cold to button up the shirt. 'You've been writing a lot of checks you expect me to keep, Dead Switch.'

'I _know_ you'll keep them sir.' The way she sounded totally convinced made it apparent to him that she'd done more than plan his escape. He didn't know weather to be angry at her presumption or praise her for this unprecedented level of anticipation.

She leaned back slightly, listening to a thug as he whispered hurriedly in her ear. Judging by the harsh response, not all was going to plan. 'Problems?' He smirked as he adjusted his cuffs.

'No.' She replied. 'Just information. We _are _on a schedule, however.'

The way to the car had been cleared by the thugs she'd brought, sometimes violently cleared. Guards were either tied to pipes and chairs or lay unmoving on the slightly dirty floor.

She must have seen his expression as she muttered darkly. 'I'm not you, you know. This was rushed.'

'No-one can confuse you for me.' He replied sharply, more out of habit than spite, but her jaw still clenched.

The car was obviously stolen judging by the blood on the door handle. This really had been a rush job.

They remained silent until they'd hit the city outskirts and Switch finally clued him in to what she'd been doing. 'Turn your phone on.'

He found the slim device hidden in an inner pocket. No sooner had he turned it on then he got a call from _her_. 'Nigma.' He answered warily.

'Who have you been talking to?'

'It's nice to hear from you too, my dear.' He mocked.

'No, I'm serious.'

'As am I' He smirked, she sounded flustered, which was unusual.

'I've had nonstop deliveries today!'

'Oh? Has Jon had a breakthrough with his latest toxin?'

'No. Not that kind! They've delivered chocolates and jewellery and-'

Edward paused as a flash of red caught his attention. Clarice was all but forgotten as Robin waved at him cheerily from his motorbike. 'I have to go.' He interrupted lamely and nudged the driver.

Switch turned to look at him and saw Robin alongside. She gave a low groan and pulled out a radio. 'Boy Wonder's on us. Time for plan B.'

'Oh? What's plan B?' Edward asked.

'Bollocks.' She swung wide and cut across several lanes of traffic in a bid to escape the pursuing motorbike.

Edward hurriedly clipped in his seatbelt. While Switch certainly wasn't on Clarice's level of lead foot, she was a risk taker and a drifter. It came in handy in police chases, no doubt but she'd only pull the manoeuvres off fifty percent of the time.

They were roaring off the motorway and into the industrial sector and for a few minutes, they seem to have lost Batman's persistent sidekick. Right now, he was probably calling up the caped menace himself.

'What's plan B?' He asked as they swung around a dilapidated warehouse and cut through the rotten yard.

'I told you. Bollocks.' The car slowed to a stop inside it's sister building. Beyond the headlights, things were pitch black. The door opened suddenly and the grip on his cane all but trebled, until he realised the polite door holder was Zowie.

Reluctantly, he stepped into the damp and chilly environment.

'Mannie and Zowie will explain everything.' She replied as tyres spun and she floored it out of the warehouse.

'Where is she going?!' He demanded.

'She's going to distract Batman and Robin.'

Another car trundled into the darkness, guided by Mannie.

'I'd get in sir; you have an hour to get ready.'

'For what?!'

'Your birthday dinner reservations with Miss Shawe.'

'Really?' He was genuinely surprised. Switch really _had _been busy.

* * *

'I can't believe she didn't show up.' Clarice fumed and picked at her highly expensive plate of food. 'She said she was going to help me pick out a dress. We were going to have early birthday drinks.' She seemed irate.

The reservations were everything he would have thought of and then some. It was her favourite Bistro; Switch had somehow haggled or harassed them into closing for everyone but Riddler and Reaper and had supervised the decorations personally.

Edward had to admit, she had taken care of everything. The food, the drinks, the music, everything except her own commitments to Clarice. The vehemence of Reaper towards the perceived slight of her friend made him feel a smidgeon of guilt because this was marginally his fault. Alright, somewhat. _Mostly._ It was _mostly_ his fault.

'Well. At least I can still rely on you, Edward.' Clarice finally ended her diatribe on Switch and turned her attention to him.

'Of course you can, my dear.' He smiled and picked up the bottle of champagne to refill their glasses. 'Happy birthday, Clarice.'

* * *

Meanwhile - In Arkham's medical wing:

Switch sighed, or tried to. She really shouldn't since it aggravated the headache. One broken wrist, whiplash and multiple bruises later, she'd been apprehended by Batman and Robin and had been pulled from the wreck that they had caused.

Her good hand was shackled to the bed frame, but it wasn't as if she felt capable of going anywhere in any case, the slightest movement made her violently sick with pain.

She hoped that the both Edward and Clarice choked on the champagne she'd personally chosen to go with that meal.


End file.
